Disrupting the Disreputable
by Xaoir
Summary: A trip to Omega reveals that a deadly assassin's on the prowl for Shepard's blood. While it sounds like an easy task with Garrus and Thane, things go sour as a teammate gets kidnapped by slavers, and not all things are as they seem. -FemShep/Garrus-
1. Retribution

"You're pissing a lot of people off, Shepard. I'd be careful, if I were you." Aria T'Loak's seated figure, clad in tight, synthetic leather accentuated by heavy weaponry at the waist, glided downward inch by inch – elbows soon resting on folded knees, her blue chin connected with the knuckles of a gloved hand. The intent had been to stare through Shepard; as if she was scrying for the female human's soul – no way she'd ignore its power, its stubbornness. When stern Commander refused to buckle underneath the crimelord's intense gaze, Aria warily smiled.

"Pissing people off... it's what I'm good at. What do you expect me to say? My question to you is why you're so willing to give up this information." The human's slack posture reflected feigned composure – Aria saw beneath that internal barrier; the Commander was hell bent on releasing bottled fury. Humans had such predictable actions for any emotion, Aria's come to realize, but Shepard knew indifference better than most species.

"I won't underestimate your capabilities – much better to keep peace, between you and I. Besides, you've helped me in the past, with my Patriarch and that handy information leak. Those mercenaries got the fucking hint right away. Don't fuck—"

"With Aria. Yeah, I got it. So, should I be worried about this so-called assassin that's after me? Sounds like he's an amateur."

Assassins – funny, she just got done recruiting Thane Krios, but to actually have one hunting her down? That led many things to rattle her thoughts – a kitten unraveling a massive ball of yarn without mercy. Who, firstly, would be so stupid to hire an assassin to come after her – and secondly, why would the assassin agree? Everyone knew Shepard once she threw on that armor and helmet; guns were going to be blazing right behind her.

At this point, the asari sat back from her slouch, fingers quick to interlace at her midsection. The gaze hardened as granite, but her complex smile grew. She knew more than what she was letting on, she always did. Aria saw her fair share of assassins in the early days; idiots who desperately wanted to remove her from power, claim her royal throne on top of Omega's festering pile of oozing trash. It might not have been glamorous, her life, but she had the right people – the right skills to ensure her victorious.

"Your assassin is a she. Oddly enough, a fellow human. Whatever information there is on her has been kept under the rug, but from _my_ sources, she originated from Earth, like you. I wouldn't put it beyond you to make enemies with your own people..." Dry chuckle rose on her tongue, Aria immediately dismissed dead humor with a shrug and blank stare. "No one comes to mind, Shepard? Can't think of anyone, a certain female, that's out for your blood?" She paused momentarily to absorb the stiffness that suddenly came from Shepard's legs. "Mmm, your past is no rumor. Gang life, drugs, war, betrayal. Death. The orphan girl became a cold blooded killer, ruthless in every way."

Shepard didn't flinch after hearing this, in fact, she's gotten fairly decent at blocking the asari's poisonous voice from her head. It'd be unfair if she said Aria was _all _talk and no teeth, she wasn't so sure about the last one. It takes serious effort and determination to stay King in an unruly kingdom, Aria's been at this game for years. Recollection occurred briefly; Aria's message claimed urgency, as to not jeopardize the mission, but upon realizing what was after her this time, the human exaggerated an annoyed sigh- until she heard _Earth._

That stiffness in her limbs melted off the bone – she had a cover to play, and by damned she'd play it. Aria's cold stare was met beyond the glowing blue beams that engulfed the Commander's head; freshly coated in crimson and black paints, Shepard resembled a demonic angel torn from the celestial skies. She chose to wear the Deathmask helmet this time around for good reason – it was foreboding to look at, rarely did anyone ever try to make visual contact through its' metallic security.

She struggled to forget that part of her life – grueling tasks performed under gang-based leadership. Drugs were the big thing back in older day, and with the rise of new technology, smuggling soon became an effective way to pay the bills. Orphan, she wouldn't deny it. The memories, although yellow and tarnished at the edges, subconsciously floated in the mess of Prothean beacon images. The people of her past were dead and buried; female... assassin? Who? It had to be a set up, someone beyond that frame of fake friendships – a money-driven criminal that'd hunt even anti-heroes.

Shepard's awkward silence dragged out a harsh laugh from Aria.

"Going down the whole list, are you? Take your time. I have no interest in the assassin's ordeal, hence why I'm being a … good friend, and telling you. I've dealt with this before myself, so let me offer you some advice: anyone suspicious – shoot." She emphasized her last word by extending hand upward in an elegant flow, as two fingers straightened and made point at Shepard's helmet. Her thumb appeared 'cocked,' the other two digits curled against palm - and while Shepard merely glared, she understood the asari's gesture; a gun.

"Where was this woman last seen?" Shepard deliberately slowed the conversation by choosing words carefully. Aria was only willing to say so much, and knowing this, she needed to pull out the information piece by piece – before the 'breaking' point, anyway.

"Yes, she's been through here. I don't have any reports of her leaving, either. Be on your toes, is all I can offer. I'd hate to see something so trivial jeopardize your entire mission." Aria cooed in response, her angular face tilted away from the human. "But, forewarning: don't make a mess. I already know what your intentions are, and I'm willing to risk giving you rights to roam without trouble. Just please... be courteous, don't fuck my shit up." And with that final warning, which Shepard took mostly as threat, Aria stood from her leather couch and dismissed the human with an evil, teeth-filled grin. "Have fun and good hunting, as the krogans say."

Garrus was a patient turian. Hell, all turians usually were – had to be, especially when they waited on their superiors to finish "girl talk," as Shepard called it. Assuming it wasn't exactly how it sounded, 'females talking about female stuff,' he pondered why he and the drell were left in the dark, shooed away in a corner of a bar where asari dancers begged for tips with flirty smiles and generous showing of ample cleavage.

His armored back pressed hard against the wall, a typical stance for him as he slouched against metal; gauntlet hands were locked at forearms once they neatly crossed over an exhaling chest. Sniper rifle clicked during a shifting shoulder; not so much a second look at the giggling women around, he seemed transfixed on the back of Shepard's protected head as she discussed business with Aria. Garrus didn't trust the despicable asari; a governor, she may have been, but she allowed her own people to suffer in the wastes of disease and poverty. He oughta just find a suitable rafter and cap that egotistical bitch himself-

"They have been conversing for exactly twenty-three minutes, now." Thane's raspy voice broke over the twisting beat of bass music and drunken shouting. Garrus' blue optics searched for the nearby drell; moments of glaring through shadow, Thane could be found in a similar pose, only his hands tightly clenched behind straightened back. A more professional take on the turian's lazy posture... how annoying.

"You've been keeping track?" Garrus' response came out more like a grunt. A bit impersonal, really. Thane ironically sounded like EDI...

"Yes. Focusing on the time allows me to meditate properly – even in places filled with channeling sound." Thane stated matter-of-factly; smug information, that's how the turian saw it.

"Suppose that can be useful in such a loud place like Omega. Vorcha screams down the alley... drunk mercs yelling..." Garrus trailed off with a visible shoulder shrug. He thought twice about asking Shepard why she decided to bring the drell along. He'd been recruited no more than a week ago, and already he's assisted with three small assignments. … Was that jealousy talking? Garrus' attention rippled away from Thane to resume idle watch on asari and human- _don't be stupid. She can bring whoever she wants. You're lucky she even brings you._

"You have to admire Shepard's ability to remain unaffected by Aria and her thugs; strong back gives physical truth to her determination – shoulders, although relaxed, hold a certain... tension. Always alert – focused. A testament to the humans, I've never met one quite like her." Thane continued on as Garrus lifted arm to rub the back of his taloned hand against dipping forehead.

Yeah, he could agree to all that, it was true, but why did a sudden flare of anger build- _I've never met one quite like her. _Hard to place that tone in the drell's voice; respect, as well as precious admiration seeped from every syllable, but something... else. Attraction? Jealousy reared its ugly head again, and Garrus violently beat it away – one mental asskicking later, he averted gaze. Aria suddenly stood from her platform, and Shepard took that as cue to pivot and leave.

"I don't think anyone's met someone like Shepard..." Inaudible words for the most part, Garrus narrowed his attention to the steel floor beneath them.

Thane moved from shadowy hole in the corner just as Garrus righted posture and pushed away from his own perch. Down the steps she bounced, all before coming to a direct halt in front of the aliens. He couldn't see her face, but the turian knew her body language well enough by now – she was apprehensive.

"What was that all about?" Obvious, his question. He expected no less from Shepard; she knew when to keep secrets, and when to tell them.

"Best not to talk in open about it, let's find a place away from the center." Cocking her head aside, she peered up at the turian through those glimmering dual lights, then nodded at Thane. "I think he'd have a better idea on where the shadows grow thickest – am I right, Thane?" Faint joke, the commander murmured a chuckle at Garrus' perplexed expression. "Human idiom, Garrus."

"I- do see several areas that are remote. Follow me." The drell bobbed his head with affirmation and led them away; down a dark corridor that was adjacent with the lower level of Omega, Thane's location was a ventilation room filled with clattering duct pipes and plentiful shadow. No one meandered by, and the area was big enough so that all three could safely fit in its nook without major issue.

"Alright..." Shepard heaved a mechanical grunt as fingers flicked her helmet's latches near angled chin. In one clean 'pop!', steamy plumes of purified air gushed from the helmet's vents; she yanked off the Deathmask with much relief plastered on her darkened face. It got a little hot, trying to pull off the bad ass look. Garrus could plainly see the rough, ember-glowing scars that were etched deep against white, gaunt cheeks. Pluming red locks drooped lifelessly at a clammy forehead – almost made her look sick, from how unkempt her shoulder-length hair was. She looked paler, too; his last memory of her recalled those icy blue eyes – frozen, wilted. No longer did they brim with a compassionate aura that felt welcoming. Her experiences changed that old perspective, much as Sidonis' betrayal changed him.

The drell was eyeballing her, as well; Garrus caught that eerily black stare drinking in the woman's facial expression. Did she know they were gawking at her? Lucid eyes flickered between Garrus and Thane with a scrutinized look. _Uh..._

"There's an assassin after me, to be blunt. Aria said she's a human; reasons behind wanting me dead, and the supposed person that hired her, are all unknown." She kept calm and collected as she explained, but Garrus felt his own body temperature drop within the bends of low octaves.

Whaaat? An assassin? Mass confusion prickled his throat, but it didn't stop him from … blinking. "Is that it? Seriously?" He nearly fell back against Thane with trapped laughter. "An assassin-"

"It would be in Shepard's best interest if we take this threat seriously. Not all assassins are incompetent or inexperienced." Thane cut in abruptly; Garrus naturally bristled.

"I wasn't resurrected again to die by the hands of a moronic assassin with a death wish." She scoffed mildly, but held quick eye with Thane. "That's where you come in. I imagine you'd know how to get in her head, think how she does. The faster we take her out, the better. I'd like to get this recruiting shit over with." Shepard tucked the helmet beneath an arm, all before glancing hesitantly over the shoulder.

"I will try, Shepard, but not all assassins think alike. One may choose a duct to hide in, another may stake out beneath a table- or, another could try to seduce the one they are about to kill. Different methods work with different species – and genders." The drell offered a soft smirk. "But I will do my best- shall I perhaps go mingle, see if I can discover a possible lead from one of my contacts? Assassins generally know when a hit is about to be performed by another."

"Hm, let's go with that. Aria thinks she may still be in Omega, possibly gathering as much information as she can. It's up to you, Thane. Me and Garrus will poke around down here and interrogate some people of our own."

. . . . . .

For Garrus, watching Shepard "work" never got boring. There was always an educational experience to learn; be it on how to get a batarian info-slinger begging for his life, or the right words and gestures to scare a krogan merc to near tears. … If they could cry, anyway. The turian cocked his head inquisitively – although he stood guard around the alleyway on Omega's lower floor, he could plainly hear Shepard grunt in between furious kicks to an unfortunate Vorcha.

Seemed rather pointless, since the scavengers could rapidly self-regenerate, but that didn't stop them from feeling the pain of breaking bones – over and over again.

"Still don't wanna talk? Hmm..." Shepard stood over the bleeding Vorcha with a glazing look of impatience. Backed in a corner, he'd been spotted after talking to several info-movers, as Liara called them. Paid underlings that transported info packets to bigger buyers, the current topic of the day was 'assassin.' Apparently this human was being sought by all kinds of people – mostly corrupted business executives who wanted to use her. This particular Vorcha wasn't as brainless as his brothers; he knew exactly what Shepard needed, but how far was she willing to go to pry it out of him?

"Pleaazzeeee! Stoooop! I know nothing! Nothing!" The vorcha bellowed while clutching his swollen, red-soaked eye. She had effectively pistol-whipped him; the injury was healing, of course.

"See, you keep saying that." Shepard's shoulders gave a dismissive shrug; hands back on hips, she cocked her helmeted head over to Garrus. "Ya hear him, right? He must think we're fucking idiots because we-" Punt to the vorcha's face caused a frightened screech to rumble from the creature's mouth. "Saw-" Foot stomp to the throat silenced the yelp. "You-" Oh, this was where even the turian cringed. Each word grunted by his commander appeared to be emphasized through brutal punishment; the vorcha's arm was shattered upon a crushing heel to his forearm. "Talking!" The task at hand was very harsh, Shepard would be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying this power trip. Sweat dribbled down her chin under that armor, her breathing labored and voice trembling with festering rage.

"T-turian... s-top her..." The vorcha pathetically whined up at Garrus. Insubordination won an almost-fatal head stomp. Blood exploded under her boot – a curling, misshapen red pool formed as she retracted the limb, and yet the Vorcha still lived, his tough skin torn asunder by abuse. Gasping for breath, he quivered helplessly, knees tucked to chest; the bleeding stopped seconds later. Pity.

"Stop her? Why the hell would I wanna do that?" Garrus spat angrily; he, too, being equally annoyed as his commander. Visor and watchful eye turned to her then; she popped her knuckles, a funny human habit. "Shepard, if he knew anything, I'm sure he would have said by now..."

"Nah... that's what I thought at first, but he's more afraid of his boss than he is of me. Gonna have to change that, aren't we?" Shepard, for being female, was surprisingly strong for her species – and gender. The vorcha, which was roughly her size in height, was now pinned by Shepard's clenching fist and the wall. He dangled – suffocating growls attempted to intimidate the woman, but it failed. She released him suddenly; bent knee collided with his stomach, while forearm whipped forward to smash an elbow against what was assumed as his nose. More blood! Dirty crimson splashed violently along her metallic upper torso in a series of sprays.

"S-SSSTOP! Oh'a... okay, I t-tell you who buy froms me. Just... stop..." Vorcha were unable to weep as humans, yet this one trembled – a decaying leaf blowing in the wind. He wanted to look incredibly feeble, weak; Shepard was the alpha leader at the moment.

Well, that made sense, even if the method for achieving necessary information was beyond the borderline of cruelty. No worse than C-Sec's new take on interrogation, probably. Garrus allowed his brain to engulf this technique; mental note filed away for later use.

"I'm glad we _finally_ understand each other, Vorcha. Now, who bought that nice little packet of data? It contains valuable stuff – like, maybe the name of a female assassin floating around on Omega?" Shepard was grinning ever so faintly under metal protection. Lucky thing, as Garrus might've witnessed this evil streak within his commander – it grew day by day.

"Need... more-" Their victim dissolved under a hacking cough. In truth, there were actually several female assassins lurking in the shadows; Thane was speaking with one.

"More what? Info? Like I fucking know. You, however, do. Now spill either the name of the assassin, or the name of the buyer who wanted her for hire." Shepard's impatience reached its boiling point. She withdrew her pistol – a speed that Garrus had trouble following – and promptly took aim at the Vorcha's skull. Easy shot, point blank in the center of his head...

"No! N-n-no, I tells you! Pleaazze..." Hissing polluted the Vorcha's squawking. "No name of- assassin, buyer c-called Q'enar Avrino... t-turian..."

A turian? She shot a glance at shrugging Garrus; Avrino sounded vaguely familiar; politics.

"Ah... I don't know about the full name, but 'Avrino' makes me want to gag – so, maybe political? Why he'd be in Omega though is beyond me, unless it's solely for recruiting … special services." Garrus confessed seconds later after rubbing the side of his head thoughtfully.

"_Special_ services, huh?" Hint of sexual innuendo! Shepard darkly chuckled; it took the turian several seconds to register that something... unprofessional had just been said.

"Uah... not what I meant, Shepard. Your mind's in the gutter today- isn't that the saying?" Garrus grumbled defensively.

"Always in the gutter..." The pistol lowered slowly, but there was strong hesitation in slackened muscle. If she released the Vorcha, he might flee and warn the buyer, or possibly, the assassin. Word spread like wild fire here; wouldn't be that surprising if the human already knew Shepard was floating around, searching for her...

The gurgling Vorcha shuddered while trying to erect himself up in to a slouching sit; peering between elongated claws glimmered that blood-soaked optic – true fear underlaid that tormented expression of gnashing fangs and dribbling, foamy saliva.

"Y-you let Krunf go now? I go... not be seen here again, pleaaazze. Avrino tells you more... he drinks lots, with naked asari- lowest level..."

Naked asari? Sounded definitely like a corrupted politician, all right, but what was with this trend of scummy turians? First Saren, then that warden from Purgatory...

Garrus felt a twang of pity for the creature a moment later. It wasn't like the Vorcha were an intelligent species to begin with; Krunf feared for his life – and Shepard's ruthlessness might just stomp out that flickering soul flame. He glanced toward his commander when silence answered Krunf's question, an ominous shadow that promised quick death-

_Anyone suspicious – shoot. _Aria's corrosive words ate away logic for a split second; no, not today. "Don't make me regret it. Get the hell out of here." Shepard holstered the pistol slowly at her hip. Krunf shrieked and hobbled up to his feet before tearing past turian and human with faltering speed. He was limping, clutching his arm, even, but the wounds lessened to meager scars. Mere seconds and Krunf was gone around the corner, leaving nothing but a blood trail to follow.

A turian politician who liked naked asari would more or less be found in the bar, Shepard assumed. An irritable kick to neighboring wall clanged against her boot – pent up aggression escaped the human's limb in a deafening pop. So much for respecting Aria's property.

Garrus questionably cocked his head as Shepard composed herself through various curses. The hell?

"Ah... you alright, Shepard? For a moment, I didn't think you were really going to let him go. Strange to see you have a change of heart." All humor, it was, but Shepard apparently read deep between the lines. She scoffed mildly and upraised a loose shoulder.

"Not gonna bother wasting ammo on him." Momentary pause filled her aching lungs. "I shouldn't be _that_ surprised, but I am. If it's not the fucking Geth, Reapers and Collectors, it's a human assassin chasing my ass." And when she finished, Garrus _thought_ he heard watery compunction in the woman's gruff tone.

He, on the other hand, wasn't that surprised. Shepard was famous and infamous, all at once – a dangerous, twisted union of complete opposites. Given her determined, yet brutal nature, she acquired many allies, but also countless enemies. Garrus, without much complaint, watched his commander step on the toes of those she found inferior, only to correct an injustice shortly after for the lesser. It created balance – a strained one, but a balance, nonetheless. In this day and age, balance was a hard thing to achieve, overall. Maybe this gave credit to his dedication – his reason for following her wordlessly.

She did what she thought she had to do, and repercussions for such actions would come to pass.

"You're always going to be ridiculously popular, even among riffraff... but you can handle it. You can handle just about anything." No reason to mask his support, he figured. Naturally, she ceased the brisk walk and canted her head askew. Shepard's usual wit dried up – puckering lips fastened a crooked frown; she often considered his advice on particular subjects, but on opinions regarding _her?_ For once, she took it to heart value.

Gauging her for reaction was pointless, and also impossible. That damn Deathmask encased expressive human features; _like a shell._ Proud woman behind an _almost_ indestructible barrier. Shepard's breathing appeared to relax, Garrus realized, and when she finally spoke, a hint of appreciation accented the tip of her tongue.

"Thanks, Garrus." She truly meant it; Garrus confessed a faint nod. Awkward silence – it lasted too long for the turian's liking-

"Now, what do you say about finding Avrino and shaking him around like a rag doll? Wonder if Thane's found anything..." Shepard picked up where they last left off; dip of the head, she waved her companion to follow while taking a sharp turn around the alleyway corner. Even though Krunf screamed bloody murder, not a soul dared to shoot glances at turian and human. Fellow Vorcha were silent, heads down, irritable clicks and hisses expressed displeasure.

"Thane? Yeah, we have some info. Meet us on lower level floor in Afterlife asap." Radio sparked quiet static as the two discussed briefly the occurrences; none of his associates were willing to talk, and this concerned the drell heavily. The assassin seemed to work more than just independently – she recovered her own information on targets, rather than relying on outside resources.

"The vorcha you questioned said a turian requested information on this assassin?" Thane was traveling through duct work – hisses of static infected Shepard's sensitive ears.

"Pretty much. We think he's a seedy politician. Name doesn't sound that familiar, but he could be a new face, and by breaking new ground, he has to kill a few fellow men to gain leadway. Strange though, that he hires a human for the job. She must be pretty damn good at what she does... but she's got no chance against us. We'll be waiting outside of the club."

"Understood. Meet you soon."

Call it gut instinct. Shepard doubted Avrino has any connection with her, but he may know the assassin adequately enough; that's what she wanted. In truth, the human didn't give two shits _why_ Avrino wanted to hire the human; in fact, none of it mattered. Killing the woman was the quickest (and only) solution. Avrino was just as expendable, when push came to shove. Expedited steps provoked Shepard onward to their next destination: the downing spiral of the sleaziest bar in the galaxy – Afterlife.


	2. Backbite

Chapter 2: Backbite

"Shepard," A monotone voice piped in Shepard's earpiece. "After monitoring Omega's surveillance systems, I discovered that Q'enar Avrino can be found on tier five of Afterlife. It appears to be a privately owned section. I am unable to collect additional information, however, mercenary channels have given reports of an 'unknown female human' in the shuttle transportation hub, which can be found on the sixth level of the station."

Shepard's legs slowed moving trot to a jittery halt. The idea of using an AI at all felt uncomfortably foreign, yet not as disgusting as she imagined it to be. EDI proved her worth, even when she refused to give 'it' direct credit...

"Took you long enough, EDI, but we already knew- wait, transportation hub? A separate area from where ships dock?" There was a grim smile playing on her lips as she glanced to Garrus.

"Yes, for smaller taxis that move throughout the station to the 'ground' levels. The accounts are several hours old, please note – she may have left the district since. I will keep you updated as I learn more." Secondary pause. "I also detect a large number of Blood Pack activity in Avrino's location. I recommend using a different route to prevent drawing attention, possibly a junction in the club's alley. It is blocked by debris, you will have to remove such items to progress." Never fucking easy, was it?

The commander hung her head with an aggravated hiss. "Greaaat. Upload both places to my omnitool."

"Of course, Commander."

"Sooo... why would your assassin be checking out a taxi? I'm really beginning to doubt this whole thing, Shepard – I mean, c'mon... it's coming from the mouth of _Aria_." Flanged turian vocals pulled Shepard's head toward Garrus. He made a good point; _why_ would this assassin be near the transportation hub? Word would have gotten out already that the Spectre was on the second floor...

She rubbed the back of her arching neck; heavy stress, the turian noted the gesture as.

"A threat is a threat, no matter how stupid it seems to be. Aria may not be the most... trustworthy, but I won't ignore her warning." Rough shrug, Shepard's quick power walk took off again. Part of her wanted to dismiss the entire thing; they were on a suicide mission, after all – defeating an assassin seemed rather... pointless, given the lack of hope in returning home from the Omega 4 Relay. No, if they didn't stomp out this threat now, who's to say the assassin wouldn't interfere later on? Her way of thinking was terribly abstract sometimes.

The turian gave a slight shake of the head; not another word from him, but he had his own gut instincts – something felt very wrong with the whole damn ordeal. Nerves? Well, in truth, yes; wasn't every day that an assassination attempt was about to be performed on the _galaxy's hero_, but maybe people didn't care about titles and representation anymore.

The duo worked their way back to the club's sub-entrance; it was a single, metal door located east of the main entryway – its framing was dingy, ancient. A dull, orange blinking seal indicated that it'd been barred from the inside. It may have been used as a way inside Afterlife years ago, but now? Trash clogged its threshold like cholesterol in a human heart.

A thick web of metal ducts ran above the door; large and small ventilation shafts bled together in a leaking spiral. Not a sound came from Thane as he dropped wordlessly behind Shepard's still form. Garrus took station in front of her, and even then, it was difficult to trace the drell's movements. For being crammed in a dusty hole in the ceiling, Thane seemed to be surprisingly clean.

Shepard cocked helmeted face left; Garrus' unimpressed mandible flare told her that Thane appeared. The strange tension between drell and turian perplexed her to a degree- _so long as it didn't screw with the mission._

"You ready?" A question aimed toward the males, Shepard moved away and began examining the locked door. Omnitool sparked to life; she was a decent hacker, and it only took her a few seconds of tapping away at three-dimensional keys to override the firewall system. Basic, the coding, but it wasn't like Omega was known for its prestigious technology.

"Always ready in a hellhole like this." Garrus murmured (with a trace of sarcasm) while casting a glance at Thane. The drell buckled shoulders, then brought webbed hands forward for a silent prayer.

Shepard's lips curled for a half-smirk. "Good. It shouldn't take us that long to smack Avrino around, but EDI said there are Blood Packs around – be alert. Probably retreated here after we handed them that ass-whooping." Garrus knew damn well what she meant, and to this he offered a dry laugh. The turian recalled that day begrudgingly when Shepard came to save Archangel; Death's cold, bony hands mutilated his face, but he somehow escaped doom – spirit relatively intact, to boot.

The mechanized door struggled to open on ancient gears; crackling and metallic pings caused the frame to shudder violently. Fuuuck. One rough kick and several curses later, Shepard yanked the door open- at least by three feet or so. There'd be enough room to squeeze through – for her and Thane, but Garrus might have a bit of difficulty being that he was the bulkiest of the three. She cocked herself sideways and slid through, only to trip over a-

She grimaced at the sickening snap just under her heel. "Shit... somebody was unlucky..."

The skeleton of a batarian; she incidentally scattered his bones, dirty clothes, and cheap pistol across the darkened hall in a filmy, dusty plume. An old corridor stretched ten feet ahead – no light either, it was purely saturated with a heavy blackness that chilled one to the spine.

Shepard uprighted her posture and, with some respect, attempted to move past the petrified corpse. She paid no mind to how the batarian ended up stuck in the hall, but Thane did; observant, black optics peered at the disarrayed bones- one bullet hole to the skull betrayed _how_ he died, but not why. The drell assumed he'd gotten trapped himself in here – on the run from other criminals – before taking his own life.

White-blue light switched on – a startling effect that left them readjusting their eyes in a series of blinks. Shepard's helmet produced a steady illumination from twin visors; a haloed bubble of limited brightness encircled them protectively. More trash and dust for the eyes to see – strong scent of decay and metal burned the nose. She progressed forward slowly, despite the area being moderately lit. Garrus depended on his visor more than ever now; hands ready on guns, he fell behind Thane who, he figured, was better off than he and the commander in terms of night vision. The drell's fluid elegance in movement through the dark was intriguing, made him a bit envious, to be honest.

Their leader came to a stop at a blockage of some kind down the hall. Broken machine parts stacked high to the ceiling; dumpsters filled to the brim with useless products that no one needed anymore – it was obviously a barricade for another hidden door. _This must be the spot..._

She came to a slow halt and craned her head up; EDI wasn't kidding, the trash reached at least eight feet in height, making a standard jump almost impossible to pull off.

"Alright, boys, time to show off your muscles. We'll need to move all this shit out of the way if we want to get through. Beyond it should be a maintenance door that'll lead us to where Avrino is."

With that, the human lowered her pistol she subconsciously withdrew and kick-tested the sturdiness of one particular dumpster. Heavy. There was a child-size gap between the cannisters; hard pushing from all three opened additional space, but past that point lurked knee-deep trash – plastics, metals, … more bones? These were Vorcha remains; a pungent odor – alien waste and corroded metal – permeated the stagnant air like thick, murky fog.

Squealing and grinding ached in Shepard's ears while a thin layer of sweat lined her brow. Physical exertion, a team effort, really, ended with the dumpster being tilted sideways; a black column of walk space revealed rectangular hall and a debris sea. Silence was broken amongst them by her furious cursing. More kicks, hip twists; she waded in the trashy corner first-

"Another lovely adventure – swimming knee deep in filth on Omega. You really ought to take us somewhere _nice_ for a change, Shepard. Maybe an ocean villa with a sandy beach..." Sarcastic, flanged vocals drifted above constant crushing- an irritable sound that weighed on the commander's mind. Leave it to Garrus – always supplying dry wit. Maybe that's why she _really_ brought him along...

She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, an unusual sound to both turian and drell. It seemed dismissive, but also amusing given the lightness of her tone. "Are you kidding? This _is_ as nice as it gets, Vakarian." Shepard even huffed out a loud grunt to cement this fact; Thane found the retort to be humorous, and a loose chuckle escaped his moist mouth.

The situation, although heavily darkened, had to be purposely twisted and molded for sanity's sake – he realized. If she remained serious on _every single mission_, Shepard's mind would've deteriorated from the high levels of stress she often endured. He's only known her for a couple of weeks, but the assassin was fairly decent at reading motives, body gestures – even in humans. This particular human, the commander, relished the idea of impossible odds... perhaps a death wish of her own? Something to end the torment that licked the fringe of her tarnished smile and glossy blue eyes. Her companionship with the turian told him they've been friends for a long while, way before this supposed resurrection. But, as always, there dwelt unspoken emotion – so close, it'd be found on the tip of one's tongue, negated soon by fear. Were either aware of it? Thane most certainly picked up on the connection, and he was an outsider!

He stopped short just as the turian did – rude awakening from thought, Shepard paused at an inactive, bent door frame. Drell optics peered effortlessly through the hazy blackness; it was shattered in sharp reflection, the Deathmask's illumination stretched from corner to corner.

"It would appear that there is no power-" Thane began, but was quickly silenced from a backward wave of Shepard's gloved hand. Garrus cocked his head curiously as well, similar to that of the commander; vibrations, gentle pulsing_._

Past this door was the muffled hush of drowned music, infected with girlish laughter. Though the door was made of the thickest metal around, there were still ventilation slots found directly above the top frame. This wasn't Avrino's door. EDI's coordinates marked another four hundred feet ahead of them.

Pressure squeezed her raspy throat shut like clamps on a brittle pipe. Her hearing was pretty damn good with those enhancers and all, but it was a deep struggle to focus on limited volume. Dancers, more or less, there were no local apartments on this side of Omega- right? Shepard's motionless frame broke away – she took a heaped kneel next to the door, palm on pistol. Drell and turian followed suit with her actions.

"Can't make out what they're saying completely," Garrus murmured quietly, "... Something about … make-up?" Brow ridge cocked upward, he shot a hasty look at Shepard's faceless mask. Not a peek of emotion, stray the smothered chuckle. Dancers getting all fancied up, eh?

Shepard nodded once, then gave a quiet tap to the center of the door. Silent cue that she was going to hack and barge the fuck in, despite potential risks. Garrus and Thane made mutual agreement with assured nods; now or never. Bright orange flared, human digits stroked the omnitool for a quick boost and rewire – resurrected systems clacked, an obvious grinding slowly pried the two folds of metal apart. Tangerine light flooded half of Shepard's face- something big and black marred a fraction of it.

They were knelt beside a well-placed table; beneath flimsy metal, four legs – belonging to two asari dancers – were hovering over a mirror several feet in front of them. Clad leather hugged all the right areas – almost naked, but not quite. They were preparing for a spiffy client – Avrino.

Noise echoed terribly within Omega's dented walls, yet the dancers remained oblivious – vibrations shook the floor; music of choice appeared to be pulsing techno. In fact, one dancer closest to the radio jacked up the volume even louder, just as Shepard managed to hack the door open. Both began dancing, indicated by jerking high heels and drunk giggling. A door stood adjacent to the pair; they'd be spotted if they tried moving past them.

_To kill, or not to kill? _Dark and deep, the morbid nature of her personality hazily clouded squinting vision. Idle twitch beside the trigger, she flexed her pistol-wielding hand up and over-

"Shepard! They are civilians-" Flaring alertness piped up in Thane's whisper- but alas, he seemed too late. Garrus, once witnessing Shepard's aiming pistol, slowly took cautious level with his Volkov. In his own outburst, Thane hadn't realized his teammates weren't _actually _aiming at the asari...

_Pop!Pop!_

Two loud cracks followed – orange tangerine light exploded in to a dazzling white flare, like dying stars falling in to the pits of a black hole. Painful blackness soon engulfed the room. Shepard was quick to turn off her safety light; now, they were hidden securely – amongst the high-pitched squealing of startled females. No, she never planned on hurting the asari; she and the turian's aim happened to be the two, full-length light sources that hung low from ceiling.

The screams ended roughly, as with music. One of the asari slapped at a wall console; twisting bass ceased, and emergency lighting suffered a mass failure. Shitty electrical work in the slums.

"Oh, my, GODS- Nesha, what _was_ that?" The tallest one exclaimed first, then eagerly clutched her blue-skinned friend. Steadily, the room began filling with the smell of burnt wire and faint gunsmoke.

"I-It sounded like an explosion! I think someone's in here-" Nesha whimpered lowly; both somehow backed in to a corner. Leaving the room would've been the right idea, but under horror-movie pretense, the females huddled together, as if awaiting an uncertain, and highly gruesome death.

Shepard – the infamous serial killer. Who would've thought? Nah, _not today._

"What? You thought we were going to kill them?" Garrus broke out a stifled whisper to the drell; even under the darkness, sharp embarrassment contrasted against Thane's frown.

"Tsshhaa... that's how we do things." Shepard grunted approvingly at the turian. The two were so entwined at this point, Garrus knew every action the commander was going to make. What made it even better was that Garrus knew every _reaction_ she wanted in return.

Shepard ducked low and moved at a snail's pace; she didn't want to alarm the dancers of their presence, despite it being horribly apparent now. They were whispering, desperately making way to the opposing door. As she inched beneath the table, Garrus soon pursuing, a low, resonating voice broke the silence.

Q'enar Avrino was most certainly making his rounds. Yes, he's been spending lots of time with naked asari; tonight wouldn't be an exception. He had reason to celebrate, after all! That stupid assassin promised to some unknown, human god that his rival, Zar Ishiki, would be dead by midnight. Stupid batarian didn't know what'd hit him, quite literally. It's what he deserved for throwing around slanderous claims; Avrino, a former space pirate?

Heavy krogan boots silenced his clicking shoes; always precaution, to hire mercenaries. Without the Blood Pack, why, Avrino wouldn't be where, or even who he was today. Life was good.

There was a strangeness in the air, though, one that Avrino felt in the pit of his stomach. Upon coming to collect his pretties for the evening, the turian heard vague explosion – stifled screaming. Were they starting without him?

"Nesha? You and your friend alright?"

Momentary pause, Nesha gulped and called out loudly. "Th-the lights are off, Avrino!"

_Bingo._ So, EDI hadn't been wrong at all; this room was a part of the suite he rented for the evening. Devilish smirking grayed Shepard's unseen features.

She lifted her hand away from pistol; assassin and agent understood this meant to hold position – ready on mark.

"Gah... I swear, nothing on this damn station works..." Avrino spat angrily while entering the room.

Hissing door brought forth yellow light, and a mild glance of the turian revealed him to be of standard height, yet decked with regal blues and whites. A business suit – he possessed extravagant taste under growing credit. His plating color was a dingy brown; garnet clan markings differentiated him from fellow turians. A massive, blockading shadow emerged shortly after... ah, a krogan body guard. Avrino's glassy, blue-tinted optics glanced about the room, hands soon settling on his hips. … Gunsmoke?

The asari dancers sniffled from fear and gingerly edged close to the politician – as if he were some wondrous god sent to save them.

"You poor things... you look scared out of your minds. Why don't you sit at the mini-bar and drink? It was probably just a power surge, it seems to happen often here. Of course, Aria's too cheap to fix anything." Avrino purred lavishly at the dancers, but he was tense; strictness devoured the languid walk he carried himself in with – Shepard's digits clenched around her pistol. No, wouldn't be wise to shoot his ass now. She needed answers first.

"Power surge? No, we thought we heard something else- scraping? Over there-" Nesha struggled to point at the vast darkness where the table sat. Shit. Avrino wasn't blind in the dark; hesitant gazing found that the once-sealed door was now very much open. Glowering, blue beams, although dimmed to save energy, pierced misty shadow – a gremlin hiding away behind the table - he spotted Shepard's knelt position.

"Shit!"

_Yeah, can't wear the Deathmask if I wanna go rogue..._

Avrino, being like any selfish politician, bolted right past his asari dancers while screaming toward the krogan. "We got company! Kill them!" His quick departure noted strong fear laced with paranoia (did someone hire an assassin to come after _him?)_ – the asari squealed again and darted after Avrino. Big-Bad-Krogan mercenary stormed inward to announce a gurgling battle growl. Could krogan see in the dark? She didn't want to find out the hard way.

Shotgun rounds erupted over the team's heads – bizarre red fireworks, the colorful bullets fortunately missed them just as instinctive fingers grabbed the underside of the table's edge; Shepard gave a muscled pull and sent it falling before her, Garrus, and hiding Thane. A makeshift barrier and distraction this suddenly became; make-up and other knick knacks clattered to the metal-grated floor.

The turian agent found slight room beside his commander; Volkov at the ready, he relentlessly shot several concussive rounds to take out the flickering glow of the krogan's shield. Thane carefully lined sight with a massive, scaly head- _plunk! _Gushing blood sprayed the air in a fine, yellow veil. The krogan merc sputtered something indistinguishable – death claimed him quickly, and he collapsed, an echoing thump felt in the legs.

Impressive. Shepard didn't even have to twitch a finger! Smothered grin and swiveling head bounced between Garrus and Thane.

"Nicely done. See? I knew we could _peacefully _work together." She gave a firm pat to the drell's shoulder, then hurriedly vaulted over the table. There was that smugness again; Thane glanced at the turian beside him before _politely_ smiling. … Garrus wasn't smiling back.

Victory was short-lived. When wasn't it? Gunfire brought the appearance of snarling vorcha, three of them-

"Why dark in here—GHNA!" _Idiot._ Shepard stood to full height and laid a perfect bullet hole in the creature's skull. He staggered back and knocked against one brandishing an assault rifle. Liquid bullets went everywhere, a silvery wave that unfortunately struck Shepard's left shoulder. "Fuck!"

Garrus vaulted over the table a split second later; silenced sniper rifle cleanly picked off the remaining two while Shepard's shield regenerated. That was close, but not unusual.

"You alright, Shepard?" Garrus smoothly asked – heat sink spat from the smoking weapon, as if to add coolness to the turian's comeback.

She muttered another curse, but shrugged dismissively. No damage done to her hardsuit, save but a dent; she rewarded Garrus with an unseen grin and coherent chuckle. "Yeah, what would I do without you, turian?" Coy joke on tongue, Shepard left her companion, who promptly delivered a _smug_ grin to Thane. He didn't smile back.

She crunched over the various objects splayed throughout their path; glittery blush and bright lipstick mingled with the bodies of krogan and vorcha. Sticky blood painted the walls and ceiling – flecks of brain matter smeared the sheen of an opaque mirror... definitely one way to make an entrance. Beyond the door branched a hall, then shortly after, the politician's personal quarters. Yellow-washed light sources acted as tiny beacons. No doubt in the back of her mind that Avrino ran to his room to cower while the mercenaries dealt with his problem. Same story for everything, really.

The males trailed behind Shepard, yet right as she rounded the door, a clustering horde of krogan and vorcha blocked their path – again. The hall offered no place for cover; this needed to be executed quickly. Garrus felt anxiety from his commander; her shoulders drooped, arms lowered briefly until she knelt in a hunch and started blasting away the closest krogan. The odds of being injured were entirely high – it was too natural for him to ease past Shepard; skilled aim soon filled her untouched enemies with explosive holes. Did she complain? Never – she often repeated the same act of friendship when he required it. They returned favors for one another as comrades would – or, that's what Garrus wanted to believe.

Thane used shadow as leverage for this particular round. He blended in well near the corner behind Shepard, a true assassin move – his rifle lifted and unleashed fury upon vorcha heads. Mutilating their skulls with bullets, or strong biotec power were the only sufficient ways in killing the damn scavengers. Epileptic colors blotted the narrow passage; cloudy, dark crimson and milky white plumes blended together as disjointed mists.

"Watch the krogan!" Garrus advised them with low, vibrating growl – his shields depleted under rapid fire; long legs remained rooted to the spot, even as the shotgun-toting mercenary crept closer. Now would've been the time to retreat momentarily; shield gone, he kept between raging mercenary and kneeling human.

_What the hell is he doing?_

"Garrus, get the hell back already!" Shepard's taut voice echoed under gruff command. She watched him hesitate out of the corner of her vision, but he eventually sidestepped back to be of level with her position. Better than nothing. Nimble digits snagged at her ammo belt for a reload; the fight wasn't difficult in the least, she had plenty of time to release heat sinks after dealing a violent blow of rounds to the krogan's head. He jerked from side to side as the three assaulted him with warping bullets. Minutes of gunfire exchange filled the hallway – it manifested as a demonic orchestra. The horde laid slain before them; fleshy entrails and fluid strewn across the floor...

"Cease fire." She barked the command sharply – suddenly. Thane and Garrus instantly removed trigger fingers and glared dimly through patchy, acrid obstruction. Gurgling whines spewed from several dying vorcha – growing stillness, visibility returned – nothing but damaged walls and furniture. Avrino's door, according to EDI's direction, was straight ahead.

There'd be a lengthy break – unnerving silence chilled the corridor. Shepard always found a strange moment for them all to take breath, especially after a blazing fight. Each crew member knew the drill by now; keep quiet, heads down. Garrus grabbed chance to finally exhale; predator eyes shifted hesitantly to his commander. Would she question what he did?

The assassin felt this pretension, right before it even began. Black eyes danced between turian and human. Behavior was definitely peculiar, and he felt slightly on edge for some reason.

Shepard's shoulders uprighted as she erected stance – steaming pistol dangled at curved waist. "I think that's the last of them." No sassy retort, or irritable complaint on Garrus' behalf. Peculiar, indeed. Was she _allowing_ him to protect her? Quiet steps leaped over stomach-knotting carnage. Avrino had _no_ clue who he was dealing with.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Oh, fucking shit- they're coming... they're coming!" The politician's lax demeanor shriveled in to a heap of dry, crumbling ash; his suitcase was being stuffed with clothes, red sand, expensive booze. The asari clutched one another on top of a well-creased bed. They were stricken with fear, unable to move, let alone summon up their innate abilities. In a life where they depended solely on looks, why brush up on biotics? Damp gazes searched Avrino for hope – what was to become of them?

There was a fatal click as he double checked the rounds for his Raikou pistol; why didn't he hire the Blue Suns instead? _No, you've got a trump card. _He purposely selected this suite for a reason; a trap door hidden behind the typical cabinet would lead him to safety!

"Don't you breathe a damn word about where I went, got it?" He hissed the instruction to the two females, only before Nesha raised her head to yammer out complaint. "What do you mean? Take us with you! They'll kill us—"

"Won't kill you if you stay out of my way." Shepard's mechanical voice separated from hissing door; three blackened figures emerged over the threshold- talk about ominous. Avrino yelped and hastily pointed his pistol in the center shadow's direction, all before it slowly donned on the turian: a female human. If the politician didn't know any better, he felt relief tickle the back of his growling throat. She had two others with her, another turian, and a drell? Rarity among crowds. Nesha and her friend screamed and scooted along the bed – the horror-movie monster was going to skin them alive and eat their hearts, even if she just so happened to be a human!

"_You've_ been the one creating this mess? Get the hell out of here, _human. _Do you have any idea who I am?"

Shepard dryly scoffed and slowly began shaking her metal-encased head. Pistol was drawn upward, heavy emphasis on a point blank shot to Avrino's face.

"Actually, no, I don't – furthermore, I don't care. I'm Commander Shepard, and I think _you_ should settle down and put away the gun before my trigger finger gets happy." Thane and Garrus all too eagerly made target point with Avrino's head; three guns beat just one.

_Shepard? Commander Shepard?_ Oh, spirits, Avrino was more than just fucked – he was doomed. Aspiring politician faltered under the human's sharp quip; he's heard stories about her and that uncharismatic charm she involuntarily possessed. Nervous eyes snapped between the three- then eventually the hidden door...

"You run, I shoot. It's that simple," Shepard read his intentions right before they could manifest! "... So, let's make it easy on _all_ of us. Answer my questions and I'll be out of your fringe."

Avrino appeared to be weighing out this command quickly enough; Raikou went lowered as shoulders sagged in on themselves. He'd have to comply – at least for now.

"Wh-what do you want? Look, if it's about the space pirate thing, I swear I've never-"

Shepard irritably shook her head again, pistol-hand still transfixed on the turian's skull. "That's not why I'm here. Word around town says that you hired an assassin... I wanna know why."

How did she hear about that? Fresh panic caused his jaw to tighten; mandibles twitched nervously- then again, he _was_ staring down the barrels of three guns...

"Aria's got a bigger mouth than I thought... but alright, I won't deny it. I hired some human assassin to take out a batarian for me. I heard that she was pretty good and reasonable with cost. We've got a feud between us, he's spreading _lies_, and I can't have him taking it to the Council if I want to be elected in the primary-"

"A batarian? What's his name- and what kind of things has he been saying?" Assumptions led her to an answer already: _space pirate; but then again, she wasn't his target?_

By now, Avrino found a pint of dignity in the bowels of his conflicting thoughts. Straightening his broad shoulders, he bared an evil glare and fanged teeth at Shepard. "I don't think that's any of your damn business, I already paid good money to have him killed-"

"It _is_ my business- unfortunately. I don't like repeating myself, Avrino." Shepard snarled lowly under mask, and metal digits tightened grip along pistol. Impatience was getting the best of her, she knew it.

"Okay, okay!" Avrino stuttered helplessly as his hands stretched outward for a 'I-Surrender' gesture. "He's... another rival of mine, Zar Ishiki. As for the stuff he's been saying..." Idle pause caused Shepard's brow to quirk.

"Lemme guess, the space pirate crap? _Are_ you one?" Humans were known for their obnoxious curiosity, and Avrino expressed his disdain of her nosiness by growling.

"_No!_ I've never been a pirate..."

"B-but you told us you had been!" Drunk and high, Nesha unwittingly chirped out the information while giving the turian a disappointed frown. He promised her all kinds of fame and fortune if she brought along a friend- _fake politicians lie the most._

Shepard snidely grinned – criminal in disguise, she should just blow his ass away right now.

"Damnit, Nesha! D-don't listen to her, asari believe anything you say." Avrino cut in quickly, but his knees buckled. Lies drained the body.

"Huh. So, you're killing off a batarian who's telling the truth? No wonder you ditched the pirate life and became a politician. Corruption – at its finest." Shepard relaxed visibly, only enough to lower weapon; her observant companions did likewise.

"If you want creds, I'll double whatever you're being paid! You... you can even have the asari! I'll just pack my things and leave-" They always wanted to run away from their fates.

"No one's paying me, moron, I'm here on my own free will. I'm after that assassin, whether you like it or not."

"I don't know Shepard, he _is_ offering us the asari-" Garrus interjected with a loose, recognizable grin. He was greeted by silence and a hasty, invisible glare; bore right to the spine, it shut him up quick.

"Where's Ishiki?" Shepard's attention returned to the cowering politician. _Wait, kill the assassin before she reached Zar?_ Well, that'd foil all of Avrino's plans!

"I don't understand why I'm telling you any of this..." Avrino found the barrel leveled with his head again. _That's why. _"You humans are annoyingly persistent." Angry spat, the turian writhed like a worm on a fishing hook. "Zar has a brother that lives in this dump, up on the first apartment complex – he's visiting. I told her that's where he'd be, but I don't know if she'll kill him there. She just told me it'd be dealt with quickly, sounded... in a hurry, almost."

Shepard felt strangely uncomfortable. Instinct, it boiled the pit of her stomach; something told her that she'd be next on the assassin's list of people to kill.

"How long ago did you meet with her- and what's her damn name?"

Avrino's lagging pause made her uneasiness heighten. "I don't know her actual name, she goes by an alias, Effigia. I met her maybe an hour ago to complete the transaction."

_Effigia?_ The latin word for ghost – how appropriate, for an assassin, but the name struck no familiarity. Shepard grunted her irritation and holstered weapon at her hip. Avrino seemed surprised by this-

"Then we're running low on time. Let's hope, for your case, that she hasn't killed him, yet."

"She told me he'd be dead by midnight-" That gave them less than two hours to find Ishiki... everything had to be so damn convoluted.

Shepard inwardly heaved a thin, raspy sigh. _Anyone suspicious – shoot. _Avrino was definitely suspicious, being a space-pirate-politician, but would his death change anything? Maybe not right now...

"Alright. You, uh... might want to clean up the hall- and for the record, don't choose Blood Pack next time. They obviously can't keep up." The commander wryly muttered, but upon turning from Avrino, he saw his moment to strike. If she killed the assassin, Zar's damaging words would effect him, possibly even get him persecuted if he truly had proof that Avrino stole the identity of some long-dead turian to pursue an active career in Council politics. Shepard had to be stopped, and she seemed so willing to forgive- a fateful flaw, it'd be one that the he'd play on.

Pistol raised, and with a defiant rumble, he fired off two quick rounds that struck the unsuspecting woman right in the head. It was a side blow; startling impact shifted feet for an imbalance – she toppled right in to Garrus as Thane exited the room first. Asari screaming became faint on the ears, Shepard's brain was throbbing - shields crackled radically from the bullets. Garrus witnessed it first, right as her back connected with his chest. He shouted her name as protective arm snaked around her thin waist to stabilize her weight - an echoing howl followed, Avrino's head exploded under the return of clattering fire of twin guns.

Shepard's attention righted; disoriented reflex found pistol and with shoddy aim, she sent the politican's body colliding back against a table through the force of warped ammo. Smoke vapor filled narrow space; ironically enough, she and Garrus overkilled Avrino – so said the agent's unholstered weapon.

"Shepard! Are you injured?" Gloved talons bit in to her armor, but Shepard quietly groaned while shoving herself from his grasp. Ringing – a constant, high-pitched whirring, she took mild damage an inch above her right ear. It was a shallow ding, but preemptive shielding swallowed most of the shell's impact. She lifted a hand to gingerly touch the spot; of course, Thane appeared magically by her side; webbed hands attempted to probe the helmet for any cracks.

"OH, MY, GODDESS! Oh-why, you killed him!" Nesha yowled as her friend openly wept in fear. They were next – their stripping careers would be ended in a violent double murder!

"Get off- I'm fine..." Fatigued shrug yanked her form from the males; _fuck today._

"And would you two shut the hell up!" She snapped loudly at the asari – they complied through weakened trembles.

"Let's get out of here..." No double-asari murder- at least for today.


End file.
